f o n i x & b l o n d e h a t

The Floor Heater

2007-10-17T23:59:00.000-07:00

It was a low, indistinct, continous sound at first.
In the coming light of day, it grew.
Murmuring saffron regalia ;
a golden red saree sweeping the polished marble
on the floor of your contemptible imagination.
You woke half a stop behind.
You always do this:
play genie with the focal ratio,
discern vague red shapes
from rubbing your eyes
as someone beautiful
in recent memory.

filbert & jones

2007-10-15T11:48:00.000-07:00

blog a blog blog
dog
kick it fat with ipod
Right now I'm
watching
sunlight on a human body
picturing
a little hummingbird
on a slanted hill.
You got me.
That little tattoo
and that blue hairtye
You got me.
little fawn face.
throw love on this brother.
I'll clean the kitchen.
Real talk-
This morning
I got the ibuprofen cure.
your looking so demure
the way you're standing there
want to chew on your hair.
Image is everything?
Insomnia, what?
filbert and jones
and Helen
ain't home.

dis be da d ramblin

Preacher man, save me

2007-09-04T09:55:00.000-07:00

Howdy y'all, this one's for you
this is from me
and I'm a cowboy
and I'm drunk.
Take it for what it's worth. Here ya go-
I was always a lone ranger
I have a different stance,
standing against the sun
in my tattered wrangler pants.
There's sand in my pocket,
don't know where to turn,
which way is my home?
This cowboy can't discern
And I've been lost
for so many years I've been alone
Man I'd give my life
for change cause I'm idle like a stone.
Where will I go & when will I see?
Preacher man take my hand and make me believe.
Somebody's got to save me cause I'm feeling fucked up.
I've lived too many years and I don't think I can last
so save me from my sins, show me heaven and make it fast..

I don't really believe in any one religion
it's more like I just believe that there's a God in it,
and somethings just got to govern what happens.

the road never ends as my days go by
I ask many questions but nobody answers why
I roam the surface of the earth in search of purpose
what's worse is from the first time I knew that it was worth it.
So the pondering was random as it should be
You'll see we'll be chillin after life
on earth just cancel and we'll be free
to do what we want, no cash is necessity
stress is pressin me will be no reason for me questioning.
Right now I fight while a war's not needed
fuck the police what i scream drunk and hella weeded.
The worries are too quick to catch with my seconds
repping who I am and not wasting time on fretting
sweating when I'm nervous, asking words from the start
getting word up says i earned crush steppin out from the dark?
Harsh words to hinder enemies, I'll never be pretending
see my goal from the day one is to see how long they'll remember me.

Where will I go & when will I see?
Preacher man take my hand and make me believe.

The Best Man

2007-08-23T15:37:00.000-07:00

I got the liquor bottle in my left hand
I know I'm not the model of the best man
I got the marijuana in the next hand
please forgive me lord I'm not the best man x2

I'm not the best man
I cram before exams
demand that I'm the man
when i can't even stand.
I break plans
so I can tape 40's to my hands
yellin fuck y'all to an audience of fans.
Me and my my mans
sit and dine and ditch from Tam's
quick to tell a dumb punk bitch to scram.
I ditch cops, sit up on the roof
and pitch rocks. Raise my middle finger
when i roll and miss stops.
I SMOKE daily
while i'm guzzlin Baileys,
obnoxious in the morning
when I'm stumbling crazy.
I think I'm made-
that's to call a spade a spade,
kick unsuspecting targets to display my rage
when it's judgment day
maybe that's when I'll pay
until then i'll be sinking in your ship for free.
I stay up perked till six-oclock in the morning
and deprive my epidermis of its melatonin.
I disrupt silence/ perpetuate violence
and what's worse I'm tellin everybody to try this.

I got the liquor bottle in my left hand
I know I'm not the model of the best man
I got the sticky ganja in the next hand
I know I'm not the model of the best man

I'm a new-fangled monster red of tooth and claw.
Flesh rippin fangs bone crushin jaw.
Raw lyrics ain't from my body, but my spirit.
I ain't passed on, but won't last long, so you fear it.
I can do more sets than you can do reps.
Gentlemen place your bets if you up to the test.
One of the best.
Only second when next to the:
F-O to the N-I-X.
Rolled up in the car down to smoke a b-legitimate,
I gots two or three eigths down to roll every bit of it.
Its just a kick back where we rip raps.
Don't get our beers taxed by lame suckas with no cash.
Even though we got evicted my homies stay lifted.
We smokin like its nobody's business, and it isnt.
SO why you actin so damn concerned,
with the styles that we kickin and the life we observe.
You should learn what you preach every person as an equal,
or every hateful tragedy will have itself a sequel.
Evil neighbor, hateful labor, opposite of a home maker, suenos breaker.
Ain't got enough paper to stop this hater, so we lay low and deal with Larry later.
We tried to live how we live,
gots treated like kids and kicked straight to the curb and told thats how it is.
But not on my watch.
I gots a full grown cock, my nuts done dropped, guaranteed to rock the spot.
How you gonna tell Mac-K to stop?
If this was the wild west I'da filled you right full of buck shot.
With me on the stage coach, puffin on a fat roach.
With your cash in the back and your wife on the track.
So keep your hands off my mike.
Cause its reserved for rhymes that ride rhythms out of site. A'ight?

Music

2007-08-23T10:32:00.000-07:00

Well I spark from the start
Did you ever know?
My musical collection is endless in its growth.
Billy bobs, techno-snobs, post-modernist grunge,
classical to swing, early rock, be-bop, and smoking guns,
jazz, harmonic fads, country, bluegrass, electric,
hardcore punk, funk, salsa, anything eclectic.
Music?
I think it's the essence of my soul,
a harrowing clarinet and snare drum slowly rolls.
Feel it in my body
hard to put the feeling in words,
sweeping like the tide
eardrum inside a steady surge,
if I was to arrange all my favorite tunes-
it would unfold poetic
like a flower in its bloom.

Music. sticks close never lose it
Music. reigns supreme don't abuse it.
Songs. Ephemeral perpetual bombs.
Songs. With every dusk and every dawn.
Life. Reduced to a rhythm.
Life. I think the angels are singing.

I can see you right now
You're sittin in your room.
Your dad hates my tunes
He's from the baby boom.
But hold on a second,
it will take 5 minutes max
as I express 20 minutes of thought
in times passed.
So grab your parent, a lover, or a friend.
Let em know about the words
Encourage them to Listen.
Don't pretend
If you groove defend my stance
but don't forget to decode my scripture
like when you enhance.
Dance hard with passion
tell a kid if he's asking,
cause 8th graders won't catch it if you're kickin it passed em.
Blast em with advisory
ask why adults are trying me,
reason substance applies to all ages cause I try to be
universal.
Without corporate oligarchy in a circle,
emanate teachings in role reversal
with ensuing rehearsal.
So from hip hop heads
stuck of Low End Theory
or De La Soul Is Dead
this is my probe do you feel me?
To children tuning in thinking days are history
Tupac and Big are classics,
should you be asking me?
I'm just a student to the movement- hip hop revolution
you're in included but deluded screamin fuck institution.
music is my soul, music is my mind.
music is my freedom stuck in social confines.
So seek it, lack of tunes is a weakness
girls can get down but vibration is the deepest.
Feel it, all genres unite.
one nation, one groove, one tune, one mic
at a time
we climb instrumentally boundless,
atmosphere full of life cause the music has found us.

Music. Hold her tight never lose it
Music. It's the truth don't confuse it.
Songs. Make it right when it's wrong.
Songs. Play each day and beyond.
Life. It's reduced to a rhythm.
Life. I think the angels are singing.

Music. sticks close never lose it
Music. reigns supreme don't abuse it.
Songs. Ephemeral perpetual bombs.
Songs. With every dusk and every dawn.
Life. Reduced to a rhythm.
Life. I think the angels are singing.

Mack-1o, Eric Clapton,
Talib, Stevie-Ray,
Tchaikovsky, RBL Posse,
Jobim, Marvin Gaye,
Billy Holiday, Hancock, Rolling Stones
and The Roots,
Bob Marley, Bob Dylan, Bob Seger in Cowboy boots.
A wildflower passion for artistic expression
running all in tandem
overcoming the tension.
Take a ride on this wheel,
melodically connected,
never stops spinning- every soul will be affected.
Browse a record store:
extend your life for decades,
pick up on motifs-
the way the sounds are often replayed.
Feel the artist's message,
dance with their unique vision,
lyrics to communicate
transcendence & superstition.
19 years old: bold and belligerent,
yearning to discover
yet sometimes still ignorant.
Fonix and Blondehat-
add this CD to this abyss,
just another recording in this nebulous matrix.
Finding our own niche,
digging another ditch,
joining this tapestry that is
endlessly being stitched.
So to the listeners: dare I ask?
Turn your volume to the max
hypnotize you to a trance
rhyme flows delivered, tempo's fast.
one song one pen one feeling one mic
three heads chillin, listenin, somehow we all unite.
play a note, play a chord, pick a string, blow a horn.
translate your emotions to a sound, you'll feel reborn.
Music is my mind but it's also in my heart,
so let's all sing this chorus- turn our feelings into art.

Music. sticks close never lose it
Music. reigns supreme don't abuse it.
Songs. Ephemeral perpetual bombs.
Songs. With every dusk and every dawn.
Life. Reduced to a rhythm.
Life. I think the angels are singing.

Dana Point

2007-08-23T10:18:00.000-07:00

Together we cross the desolate road.
A tattered group of disaffected youth,
silhouettes in a sun of gold.
We're at a turning point, our lives will change forever.
The helm of a bloodless revolution impending
like the coming weather.
So here we stand, hand in hand,
trust no god, just our hearts and this land.
I can see so far
It's Dana Point,
the point of no return under the north star.
Well it's time we've had too much
and it's enough, gonna pack our stuff,
ride the highest cloud puff.
We're young and we're so resilient,
a brilliant crowd, together
our souls will spawn millions.
We have the power to change this whole fucking world
and we're only a group of 4 guys and 3 girls.
Well I can see it
we can all see Dana Point-
the surfers ride the waves
and the old men roll the joints.
Call this a revolution
an evolution of the free,
Dana Point Darwinism will stomp hypocrisy.
I know what you're thinking:
I'm an egotistical being,
you think I know it all
and every girl wants my blue jeans.
But the truth is this-
you can dis
or you can lead,
and it's the latter part
of which I wholly believe.
When no one else steps up I will hold the torch,
the flame can be seen from your California porch.
We're moving to a place where the sun meets the moon,
harmony and balance, a season in full bloom.
We'll all serve a function that exceeds simple commerce,
do what we please
a family of shot-callers.
Make a culture that denies social distinctions,
stop the perpetuation of animals' extinction.
Be just See just pee in the wind.
He loves she everyone can be friends.
No more shame in this game
Take pride in the fact that we're not the same.
We look to the point that's becoming so vivid.
Dana Point is the point
can't you all feel it?

Why do we look to the point?

untitled

2007-03-24T14:27:00.000-07:00

Some days the sun rises with a conviction I don’t have.
A soothing, luminous, crimson, orange haze lights up warm and smiling
until it sets your dinner table with a lipstick sunset.
Today was not going to be one of those days.
The phone rang before that lumination had a chance
and it wasn’t love on the other end.
Coppers again. Diggin’ for information like malnourished Soweto miners
Digging for diamonds.
They call me because I’m a private eye.
I see things. I hear things. I know things. But not everything.
The boys in blue couldn’t find clues if they came in registered mail.
A dog barked it’s persistent protest outside and that didn’t
sound like love either.
Sirens in the distance made me feel safe and annoyed.
Yes, a morning medley of madness dancing the meringue in my head.
Wasn’t the first time. Won’t be the last.
Sit up, feet on the floor, deep breath. It’s a start.
The little white balls of sleep I dug out of the corners of my eyes
could have been teed up at the golf course.
Black coffee. Hot shower. Hat on. Out the door.
That’s just the way it is some days in The City.
I’ve had worse.
But I have hope.
I always have hope.
Hope dries me off, pours my coffee, and if I’m lucky,
buys me a drink in a place where you don’t have to pay.
For pleasant conversation with a dame who wears a dress
that has no business being on at all.

I never used to think it was impossible
But it’s been so long I think I forgot:
Guy meets girl, they fall for each other like waterfalls,
tropical Red-Headed Parrots squawk overhead,
they all live happily ever after.
The kind of stuff Philip Marlow or any other private dick
or gum shoe wannabe could only imagine on the pages
of pulp fiction paperbacks hanging hopefully on lonely racks
in supermarkets from Santa Cruz to Syracuse.
But in this city, a city where the fog slips quietly in on little cat feet
and lays down purring warmly between your summer sheets,
anything is possible.
The impossible is always possible in a city so great,
hearts have been left here, immortalized in song
and lore of the Barbary Coast.
So what’s a man to do with a heart as big as Angel Island,
a desire to please as big as Coit Tower, and a grace
as sweet as a cathedral on Nob Hill?
The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind
and in the fire I’m trying to get started with you.
Ahh…wonderful you!
You’re a gal who don't miss opportunity
but if it knocks too loud, too early, or with hesitation
you might stick your high heel right through
any idea it had about getting cozy.
You’re a gal who knows right from wrong but doesn’t mind
forgetting now and again just for fun.
A dame who can get dirty and come clean
without batting her eyelashes hard enough
To wake up Las Vegas.
A gal who doesn’t mind mud on her Sunday hike,
and dirt beneath her nails on occasion,
and doesn’t mind fresh water pearls holding up her
little indian red dress.
I don’t sit around with my feet up, remote in hand
waiting for life to tap me in the shoulder with some gat
that isn’t my caliber.
I pounce. I fall madly in love. I ride trains.
Even though I’m a whiz in the kitchen
and can cook up a storm even when the skies are clear,
Coltrane and Cleopatra bring me breakfast in bed.
Miles, Monk, and Marley take me to dinner on the moon
Even when it’s full.

Congolese Truck Driver

2007-03-22T02:49:00.000-07:00

Way down there it's raining dust
and the snakes police the roads
and a truck weighed down with misery,
stops and unloads.
and 18 broken passengers
their blood as thick as mud
beg for for water; for anything
the driver waves 'good luck'.
The Sun's been frying lizards
hidden under rocks,
and now it fries the refugees
and turns their brain to chalk.
18 men & women
and 1 one brand new pair of shoes
and the driver's back at the border,
what's he got to lose?

and 1 brand new pair of shoes,
now he's back at the border,
what's he got to lose?

Mellow Deliverique

2007-03-21T15:59:00.000-07:00

Let me pierce that complacency,
you harbor it ungracefully.
Facing me, most mc's would agree
it's not the place to be,
my metaphors are predators
to competitors, devouring edible artists
like their hostile editors.
Rappers are wrong to think
they're strong enough to bomb
on the Savage.
A long season for this cabbage.
Donning new johns, feeling my baggage,
hungry for the next mc that I can ravage
and as far as opposition my disposition is this:
switching flow positions, we're spacing spots you can diss,
so now you can't. I leave you right where you stand,
make fans mad to see you planted with the mic in your hand.
I got em speechless, the tongue reaches the lips,
but my thesis is repeated in the head and they forget
all the words and confidence that prevents their honestness
committed to admit- they're not half the mc fonix is.

Well I've been steadily plottin' and I'm looking for the answers.
I'm not talking about mathematics or finding the cure for cancer.
I need to settle some squabs nestled in my brain,
it's the struggle between light & dark, pride & shame.
And sometimes it feels like I'm running in fucking circles
never seeing the finish line as I jump through all these hurdles.
They say the world is round but I'm not sure I believe it yet,
until I scale Everest and retreat deep into South Tibet.
And I believe that dreams are not only dreams but reality too
and one day I'm going to climb into the sky where a pterodactyl once flew.
It's true, nothing is false.
Except for the fact that we're dancing in this cultural/psychological waltz
called American life.

Referential

2007-03-21T15:45:00.000-07:00

In vain like Mark Twain
I'm here to snatch the spotlight.
Demanding your attention
like a matador in a bull-fight.
We tight, rag a dag goodie gum,
hotter than Harry Potter
two particles de la sun.
Caught up in the mix,
can't escape this lifestyle.
Rocking dope kicks,
crashing parties wild-style.
Breaking it down like Orson Welles
I do it well,
perceive the moments clearly
so fuck a fairy tale.
Puff a luff, Puff a la
I look up to Richard Pryor,
lunatic lit a match and burned
himself to get higher.
Where in the world is Carmen San Diego?
I rap all over the map so Nickatina where's the yayo?
Ehyo ehya, Outkast and De La:
recognize this talent,
hook me up I ain't no faker.
in fact I'm straight stacked,
caught a shark by the gill,
so savage that after that
I put that mother on the grill.
Spiced it all up with the Jerk* from Jamaica,
washed it on down with a 40oz cause I'm a playa.
What?
Y'all hear me right, like Guru you know my steez.
Recline your busted sofa while your otter pops freeze,
wake up the rejects who live down the block,
cock back your arm and peg them with a soda pop.
Pop Rocks are the shit cause they make your tongue bubble,
fly chicks are the shit in the morning when they snuggle
academics suck dick when they say the world will crumble.
Stumble in my path, Duck I can see your x-ray.
i learned to see fast, duck, growing in the mothafucking Bay.

*Walkerswood jerk seasoning

Michigan

2007-03-21T14:39:00.000-07:00

Big D we always called him, the D was for Dwight.
He was my great grandfather, 6 foot 3 in height,
stood tall and proud, surveying the lake,
two hours from Chicago to Michigan on highway 8.
Him and Gommie, they loved their little cottage,
used to raise flag every morning to pay homage.
Every summer all the grandchildren would come to see them,
they told us magical stories that carried deep meaning.
My family was in a hurry, in a flurry to feel the sun,
their house was by the beach they could watch the children run.
We cut up watermelons and ate sandwiches at 2:00,
me and my cousin Bianca would ride our bikes, hers was blue.
At night all the parents would gather in the gazebo,
cutting up onions and peppers to mix in the burritos.
Later in the night we would walk to The Well,
an ice-cream shop run by Swedes: blond and swell.
And times always come, the rains fell hard,
the pitter-patter drops on the waves under the stars.
It's beautiful really, to see the lightning strike
while running down the sandy dunes faster than the light.
We burn fireworks with Scott, throw the frisbee with Steve,
travel down a creek on a skinboard on our knees.
The crickets and the reeds, humidity and the trees,
Nana and Grandpa under the shade trying to read.
It all goes back to Dwight, my great grandfather past
who helped build the business that lets this family last.
We flourish and for this, I'll always say thanks
and though you passed away, we will forever be mates.

One of my favorite things was going to the bakery.
Buying cardamom coffee cake- such a memorable pastry.
We sat around bright fires in a black sky,
Big D talked about going to war when he was 25.
Shucking corn and picking berries, an experience kinda simple,
returning to our roots, the center of a ripple,
the center of what is human, what brings us all together,
pitching in, telling stories, adjusting to the weather.
Passing down values from generation to next,
teaching to sail a Hobie Cat jibbing to the west.
Learning what is right, trying what is wrong,
checking out the Bethany beach girls laying on the lawn.
And man it's so good, thinking about it now,
those times were the best, we oughta be proud.
I was young, but, sensitive to the rhythm.
I remember thinking then- this is the way to be living.
Take care of your family, celebrate your life,
let the wind take you, cut the strings to your kite.

Do You?

2007-03-21T14:08:00.000-07:00

I was never quite as smooth as I thought with the girls,
I struggle to be recognized in a crowd in this world.
I'm frustrated cause sometimes no one wants to listen,
I tend to talk to the walls in my room while time's ticking.
I wish I was a little bit more sure of my views,
how can certain people hold an opinion they can't refuse?
I'm shaking. I'm not sure what it is that I'm chasing,
will one day I find a job that I'll love without faking?
You are probably not that different from myself-
I'm nineteen years old, a student, and in good health.
I'm really curious if y'all ever had these thoughts
when your head hangs low and you sit by the docks.
And maybe if you had we could write a movie-script
where the protagonist feels alone but he ends up with the chick.
Want a happy ending in the last of my days,
know there was a purpose, and I wasn't just lost in a maze.
Be the type of person that you want to be:
move to Palestine, get a job, or hug a tree.
Never be afraid of what your heart tells you,
remember all those times it all fell through?
Smile with the folks that you're close with,
reach out your hand when they have a loose grip.
Find a loving partner that rocks your boat,
take walks, make love, share tons of jokes.
Life is what you make it, it's so obvious,
if you don't love others it's way too monotonous.
Swim in the ocean and run in the forest,
respect the wildlife that came before us.
Laugh, because it keeps us strong.
Ask, when you think it's all wrong.
Be, your own unique identity.
See, with all of its clarity.
Find an outlet where you can release tension,
say what you think, don't ever keep it fenced in.
Tell your friends just how much you love them,
make amends in relations that have broken.
Take out your demons, lock them in a box.
Find out the reasons when you're tired and you're lost.
Stay human. That means have compassion,
oppose the war, eat good food, and don't cash in.

Do you feel this? I rip sick with quickness,
shape-shift give you a face-lift
like agents from The Matrix.
I'm like the red Pringles can and you're basic.
Displace shit, with my weight which
you facing, racing for a spot in the lunch line
but you're tasteless.
Bland standing hip-hop ain't felt when fakes drop
when the mesh of the mic comes from my lip the crowds stop
to listen that is, cause they still pumping their fists
jumping and bumping and pissed, they feeling my riffs.
Cause I'm an artist, start this, vibration of art
it's amazing, fading and blazing, it got me lazy and heartless.
But it doesn't I got love and tracking verbal with vigor
Touching here and feeling the same force that's how I figure
Smell and taste and sight allow you to sense and fright
what prevents the mic which i might otherwise have
but in listening ways shaped with the hastening pace.
??? That's another wise track.

Breaker Breaker Dana

2007-03-21T13:57:00.000-07:00

It goes one, two, three, and to the four.
Everybody get your ass on the dance floor.
It goes one, two, three, and to the four.
Dippin' dollies down, you pretty babies want more?

The colors in the room we were sitting in were spectacular,
deep red hues and blue: a cafe somewhere in Mannenberg.
The jazz was so deep, you could sink right in it.
The bass-man was brilliant, and the drummer was just hittin it.
I was feeling it, I like jazz stripped and real.
I was watching a pretty woman dance in a black dress and high heels,
real. I was by myself, a fact I didn't mind,
it's been a couple weeks since I've had some alone time.
But then yo, a parasite emerged:
this giddy fucking girl who kept jumbling her words.
I was trying to hear the music but she kept yapping in my ear,
I was gonna say 'shut up' but I settled the issue with a beer.
She weren't my style- wore Ugg boots and a trucker hat,
kept saying she hated when friends of hers never called her back.
Snap. Get a clue, eh? Bug off or I'll cut your wings
like a butterfly immobilized cause the words I say will sting.
But nah, I ain't that type of person.
I think I'll settle the issue with a glass of red bourbon.
Okay so yeah, I'm feeling a bit better,
the jazz is getting louder, they're improvising all together.

It goes one, two, three, and to the four.
Everybody get your ass on the dance floor.
It goes one, two, three, and to the four.
Dippin' dollies down, you pretty babies want more?

Make a Rhyme

2007-03-21T13:46:00.000-07:00

It's been a long day, just clocked out at work,
onto the highway, fill up the tank first.
In my Cadillac with dirt all over it,
I'm like Jack Kerouac: On the Road, slick.
Pass that road sign 'Main & Sinclair'
just past the old mine, Grandpa used to work there.
Almost at my home, brother's probably smoking pot,
listening to alt-rock, chilling in his flip-flops.
And now you're on my mind, I planned this all week.
Each day has been valley but today I hit the peak.
Get to see you soon, get to hold you close,
do a little body rock like the song by mighty Mos.
I got to hustle back, I got to shower up,
put on my brand new slacks, I'm gettin toed up.
"What up brotherman, you feeling stoned yet?"
"Oh hell yeah, hey, where's your girlfriend at?"
Well I jump on the bus to your house,
knock the door, stride across the floor,
yo I can't ask for more. You're looking so sweet, looking so fine,
you could pose for Reef, pose for Calvin Klein.
Make my heart beat round the clock,
you make me compose the sweetest sounds of hip hop.
everything feels right, everything's okay,
the way you look tonight and every other way.
Head for the town then back to my place,
have a quick dinner now, then close all the drapes.

Sucker Fish

2007-03-21T13:39:00.000-07:00

Inhale, exhale, don't stop, impale; get this microphone.
Let's all walk down to the place-
50 cent ice creams, move with grace.
I have so many cousins, I think I've lost count,
and the soul of my existence spreads about.
Through my family I express the love,
peace, wings, dove, rise above.
Cookouts: the adults sip wine,
teens steal beer, and children play blind.

Back to the Basix

2007-03-21T13:06:00.000-07:00

I got a trait, it's to anticipate,
when an eruption's coming I'm just runnin' from my fate.
The hate, is what everyday perpetuates
and it's just that in every way dishevels me,
I'll never wait to speak out,
get the tenderizer and the beef out
similar to pentagon papers:
the fakers leak out
to the collective, you can call me a detective,
selective, with a magnifying glass inspecting,
it's suggesting we use the bush no need to beat it around
I'm underground with encyclopedia Brown.
Wow, put this fucking diction in your mouth,
better get the Man over here cause the bitch is trippin out,
gotta calm her down, lay her on the side, so the vomit doesn't make her drown.
Lady liberty, what's up baby, you want to get with me?
Here's some water, water for the cigarette, I think the aneurysm
got her best, a better bet a quicker death
like Murs said 'I keep a step, keep pulling it off like I'm gonna get it
but never yet.'

I got heart, if you don't like it you're wack,
I'll turn my back and leave you with stark.
Life is art, beauty and pain:
both painted with my brush they're one in the same.
I came with no fame and I'll leave with less
but until I meet death, my every single breath
from deep in my chest will never let me rest
from a relentless quest- not to be the best
but to live at my pace at my own behest
manifested in my id, the things that we did,
born in my ego, the places that we go.
It's time for me to blow this popsicle joint,
we made the point, now it's just,
dude i got to get the fuck out before they give me the boot.
I can't put my finger on why the ghost linger.
I won't forget my friends or our experiences
haunting my brain: ecstasy and agony-
if I don't remember, I'm dead it's a tragedy.

I'm a kangaroo not about to favor you,
gonna endanger you, yo, I'm famous too,
sipping on a lame kid's cool Hauf brew
in a new kind a turf where the murder lurks,
the girdles jerk, the young punk perk.
I'm a cyber tiger wearing lasers on my head,
my skin is red and I got Rastafarian dreads.
Back to the basics..
This one's for a girl I think about a lot,
who lives far away in her parent's Manhattan loft.
This girl is beautiful, she whispers to me on the phone,
I'm pacing outside my home, my reflection in the chrome.
Her hair is black like a shadow at 12 o'clock,
her skin is soft, you know our bond is like a knot.
I got love for miles cause of the way that she smiles,
she brings a style that's wise, sexy, and primal.
She makes me euphoric that's why I can't ignore it-
what draws me to her, I revolve her energy like an orbit.

Crowd Anthem

2007-03-21T11:58:00.000-07:00

Everybody listen up now,
throw your hands up in this crowd.
Turn up the treble and the bass so loud.
We're doin' this for all of y'all.

Yo these things that I write that I know I will record,
they got me trying to put my spirit through the headphone cord
cause days later you might have it in your player and guess
what type of chronic text the fonix is gonna connect next.
I surmise that a mic as my disguise might get me into these eyes
which I might otherwise miss. Though somehow a kiss is what I get
when I wouldn't get shit if I didn't have phonetic vocals on the tracks that I spit.
I miss my homies, all across the globe, roaming so we can't kick it,
why I rip it and deploying growing tired of living on the road,
groaning stomach, feeling old, with no one simple abode
that I can call home.
I discover peace when thinking about those that deceased,
release stress from my soul as I unfold like a crease.
Memories are all I have left, so my quest to get the best
out of life and somehow the teach the rest.
That's why I do it, should you listen or screw it
I think the knowledge that I drop is got all the way around to it.

Everybody listen up now,
throw your hands up in this crowd.
Turn up the treble and the bass so loud.
We're doin' this for all of y'all.

Well I whip out this sharpie, put words on the page.
You say it's artsy, but that's how I pray.
Now that's my diction, the way to bring motion,
that's how I give thanks to the sky; to the ocean.
Life is a scale, yo, you gotta find the balance:
recognize your weaknesses as well as your talents.
And these words help me see my limitations-
need to grow in certain areas and learn with patience.
I'll fly like a hawk, swoop like an eagle,
snatch up my prey, the truth is in the people,
cause my spirit's in the animal. My spirit's in the sun,
it radiates in the darkness, you know the universe is one.
Everything, everyone plays a role:
the insects die young and the rocks grow old,
the trees provide the seeds and the oxygen to breathe,
the bees pollinate with the flowers which compete with the weeds.
Landscapes all tell their own stories:
jungles, deserts, forests, and quarries.
I've seen the darkness envelop the fog.
I've seen the leopard prey on the fawn.
Raccoons scour inner-city trash cans.
We look to the sky and measure wing-spans.
Goddess of the rain bring pain, bring change,
help the seeds grow- new grains, new names.
Now, Father of the fire- the passion and desire:
burn down the cities with magma when we're tired.
We'll start a new cycle, reinvent our society,
after the ashes fall from skyscrapers all fiery.

So what he means is the meaning and our poems shine gleaming
so let it light up those shady corridors, you're walking head-hanging.
Keep your head up, Pac's message lives on, I'm fed up with ignorance,
I'm swinging mental infants- watch your head, duck!
You motherfuckers need to zoom out on the angle,
there's three dimensions, no big picture, let your camera dangle.
I create to expand what you make to include,
a segment of my mood, your mind-state's fucking pregnant dude.
So when my voice touches your lobes and inspiration explodes
it's not your choice to hold it out cause your will should corrode.
If it doesn't than I wasn't meant to be an mc
and fonix doesn' exist I'm f r a n z.
Yo provocative diction, it's got me slipping to the opposite,
poppin shit off at the mouth at the chart and then we're toppin it.

Economics

2007-03-21T10:48:00.000-07:00

Well hello everybody in America today,
I'm here to make that little voice in your head go away.
I've been down to the mall, is that a freaking joke?
People buying 16 shorts and 4 new coats!
I choke, when I try and find a record store
and the top 25 are sold out in all four.
Do people have opinions, who fucking listens
to anything other than material visions?
Possessions stressing people about
without every hour sit in front of the tv on the couch,
for some reason and treason people believing it all,
president's being spent till the casket calls.
I'm asking y'all, can't you just live without
every tangible item people speak about?
Consumer-ass pigs rounded out like cattle,
herds and plots, baby's shaking like a rattle.

Buy some more, find a dollar and you're famous,
cry no more - you're gonna see some great changes
cause you got money and that's all that matters
but don't trust us we're just two fuckin rappers.
x2

New cars, new house, new cat, new mouse.
Fast life, that's right, people shop in the night.
Everyone looking, bookin in Ikea,
herd 'em like cattle, now, that's the idea.
And everybody participates in this maze.
shop craze, cash phase in these reckless days
and I want to thank you Ronald
for the convenience of a 10-minute away McDonald's.
It takes cash to outlast, live young or die fast.
Dollars make sense but I can't believe that.
I wish I lived with a different hierarchy
where money wasn't the ruler of all these tired streets.
I wish that a dime didn't mean shit,
wouldn't trade it for a lime, burger, or outfit.
I rap and I sap and matter of fact
money don't mean shit so bitch step back.

Buy some more, find a dollar and you're famous,
cry no more - you're gonna see some great changes
cause you got money and that's all that matters
but don't trust us we're just two fuckin rappers.

Alright so here's the concept:
I play the part of analyzer
and you, if willing, play the part of sympathizer.
Alright and the subject we're discussing
is an ignorant white boy obsessed with material possessions.

You could of called the kid a wrench
cause he was just a tool,
thought he was the best friend
of everyone in school.
Kept his hair gelled;
thousand-dollar watch;
didn't need a job,
just called mom's and pop's.
Everyone saw it, but he never did,
the way materials dictated how he fucking lived.
Never had clue about the Earth,
threw his trash down, sitting in the dirt.
Just another kid, a product of MTV:
short attention span, judgmental as could be.
Here's the opposing, we have some juxtaposition:

Just cause the kid's got flow
doesn't indicate he knows
not shit about the bro's that
surround him and his hoe's.
He's got the knowledge of a pro
it's just not quick to come out,
he ain't no aborigine, yo,
fuck a walk-about.
He's got the illest kicks in town
100 thousand different cd's
crowned jewels, valued pools
kicking friends and smoking beadies.
He's got the x-box and text talks,
6 pairs of new shocks
and he could give a fuck about
the Earth down in a box.

(bonus track 1)

Where is she going, yo, tell her to come back,
wack-bitch turned the clock and caught my backpack.
She just stole it and didn't even leave me a breath,
trying to make a profit selling my belongings to death.
Bury me smiling, fuck the dough you can keep it
but give me my books back if nobody wants to read it,
if they do, then keep the words that I've put together.
I feel better with the pen, never seen bad weather,
but better days have for sure crossed my eyes,
I have a party at my funeral cause everybody dies.
Lies that I told but I never got to clarify,
my reply is my alibi I'm sorry I was high
but I love my life and everybody in it,
if it really was a game then I prolly would of won it.
I'm running from the police cause my rep is all I got,
every second that I thought was the second that I lost,
not acting cause I'll never regret doing it,
I'm alive now I'll never let brevity ruin it,
screwin it like, yo, muthafuck death!
I'll go there when you take me but for now I'm on a quest.

Rap mouse, I act out, fools get drunk and pass out.
I'm a cowboy like a child's toy, pull my finger and I'll act coy.
I'm brave, braver than a wave, and know what?
I've never had a friend named Dave.
Loose, I vibrate like a train's caboose,
if you step to this, I'll quack like a goose.
I'm silly, cause that to me is all life is really,
picture a straw-chewing musical hillbilly.
Life? I see it as a series of disasters
and no the truth isn't in Plato's time capsules
cause I've got it, all the truth that you need,
I'll sell it you for 5 bucks and your leftover weed.
Yo, hopping up and down, stomping like a clown,
I'm a meth'd out butterfly looking for the sound.
Girl look twice while I steam up this rice,
check me out cause I'm colder than ice.
M.O.P., Miles Davis, and me-
we all share in common eccentricity.

(bonus track 2)

I'm 2 steps late of 3 steps early and on time,
that's 5 steps for 1 per-distance why should I separate a rhyme
from the rhythm, giving every minute its purpose.
Living on Earth's surface, any more would make it worthless.
I'm running from the future but I'm stuck in the past
from the first to the last, run fast to make it last.
Hash marks denote keynote speakers' last names,
cash harks twin to the head but stinkin ass is what to blame.
It's the same as before we just run different routes,
shout outs to all my people, all the realest with no doubt!
I feel it in the very heel of my boot,
I've got a big fat blister to reveal it i would shoot
and off-target it's hard to for me to harness my aim,
sad and glad at the same, thinking that's why I came.
No shame is on my breath, pain stiff won't let me stretch,
silly md? respect, got no signs I can connect.
So I let it be, concluding medicine is over prescribed,
don't sweat it see it's been the same since aliens arrived
and they're still here for now and we're not even leaving,
what if your momma offered food and then just told you she was teasing?
She can't, right? Well neither can I.
Don't hold your ears I'll have to get into your head through your eyes
and that'll hurt. Take off my shirt when I get heated,
hip-hop's the art, yo why start against it? you're defeated.
Not by me, yo, but by the mic itself,
reputation eschews values, personality is wealth
and I'm gonna go on a health kick
so clear your sinus, plus or minus,
rhyme a line of this cause I'm sick.
My wealthy personality got me healthy and I'm standing
Harness my aim from the beginning to the end
First to the last, don't ever pretend
crooked crooks and cash sharks living on Earth's surface
Everyday we embark, but life's worth it.

Cape Town

2007-03-21T10:25:00.000-07:00

It's tuesday, Stone's got Black Label for R5,
before we go we smoke dagga to get high.
Step out on the windy streets of Cape Town,
Obz is going off and I'm about to straight smoke clowns:
on the two-ball rule, playing pool to the juke box,
everybody's lovin' that Angolan hip hop.
Earlier in the day the Springboks beat the All-Blacks,
we watched it on the tele, man, it was fat.
A lekker braai and the cape malay curry,
we're on a ride now, a culinary journey.
I got a call from Siyabonga down on Long St.
He's gonna be reciting his poetry over a bomb beat.
The majestic spirit of the Zulu lives.
The Inkatha party is getting the next bid,
naa, but for real, Mbeki's got it locked.
Him and his cronies won't stop scheming the plots.
It's about time for a Mandela revolution,
do the Madiba dance and read up on Paul Nugent.
Any way I'm off. Sharp.
Hout Bay, Knysna, Drakensberg Park...

Wide World

2007-03-21T10:22:00.001-07:00

Oh baby, baby it's a wide world...

Loving you is like a carnival
the heights we reach are astronomical.
You're my only girl and I promise you,
though you gotta believe me it's the honest truth.
It's becoming evidential,
when I'm with you
I reach my potential:
not only physical but mental.
the part that you play in my day
is so substantial.
That's something you can't compromise.
Don't ever let past decisions haunt ever your lies.
Because if you do then you're forced to live with your regret.
and that's something we should never ever forget.
Let that rest, and don't disturb it
I know you so well we could never get nervous.
I love you, there's a million ways to word it
you got your doubts but i guarantee a sure bet.
It's like a warranty with me if you need service
so come on baby, we could be, and both serve it.
Or we could smoke weed. and kick it.
Let your hair down and lounge around
let your voice make sound as the world goes round.
Let you know, when it comes to the sexual
that you get my rhythm that's the best in show.
release your apprehension,
it's all good we're not living in a mansion.
steady advancin the life that you lead
should be evidently free dancin
and the dribble be: no chivalry or romancin.
I admit it we participate can't sleep on the beach
when it precipitates make us dissipate
wait, disregard possible mistakes.
and we can keep dreaming about tropical estates.
not topical debates.
you say you hate, ha ha,
yo
we should make this a daily thing,
because the joy that you bring
is unprecedented
when i wrote this i meant it
when i spoke this i sent it
it's unprecedented
" "
Oh baby baby it's a wide wide world...
You haunt my dreams every night you do,
you're so close, but far away too.
Look how you do, you make me roam the streets.
My heart beats; my sweat wets the sheets.
On the phone you whisper that you love me
and a song is playing by James Mcmurtry.
He sings about where the buffalo roam.
You are my home so now I feel so alone.
I feel i got to take you to the west,
missing you has just w, w, wacked out my stress:
In a desert, you're my oasis,
my thirst burns for you so real i can taste it.
This ain't no letter though, let's be real honest.
I might have slipped on those things that i promised,
Sometimes a guy's got a chase a catch.
I'm just a dog that can't help but fetch.
So many fine girls all up in my orbit
I'd take em all out if I could afford it.
But a guy can only love one girl at a time:
check this rhyme.
I'm all confused and I need some love,
the words we share are sometimes, not enough.
I'm sitting on a bus and see some girl,
from my class, my head spins and it twirls.
should I make a move, or should i not?
My consciouses says, 'no! don't think with the cock.'
you got a girl on the east that's beautiful
don't fuck it man, don't be a fool.
But ahhh shit, you slide and say Hello.
Her headphones blasting 'The Love Below'
"How you doing now, I've been watching you
see now, you've been on my mind because you're my taboo.
I wanna show you the ride of a lifetime, we could travel,
have sex and we could fight crime.
We could entangle on a Jaguar sofa,
You could sit and read rhymes that i wrote to you.
She looked at me with beautiful blank gaze,
she asked me if i was crazy, asked me if I was blazed?
Well I had to laugh, and then i seized the moment,
I took her response and clutched it like an omen.
I said yea that's right and returned to my seat
then got out my pen and wrote this letter to Aimee.
I miss you baby, will you fill me with that incredible,
special, sentimental, gentle, fundamental feeling that
everything is perfect, everything we've done is all worth it.
Frequently the rhythmic soft grind of your soul appears.
When I feel it, I feel it near, and I feel no fear.
Kiss your ear, when you come to California,
until that day I'm gonna sit and dream on the corner.

Rosie's Eagle

2007-03-20T22:13:00.000-07:00

Rosie was a widow who lived up north of town.
If you pass Wolf Creek about a mile and circle back around,
you'll find a big old ranch house
made from sandstone, rocks, and sweat.
And Rosie raised her family there.
Her grandson lives there yet.
Now, I became acquainted with this grand old pioneer
when i was just a youngster, nearly in my 14th year.
I'd go out and feed her cattle while Rosie went to stay
and visit with her children who had grown and moved away.
And once while i was feeding, I saw a wondrous sight:
A big old Golden Eagle just soaring like a kite.
So high above the wagon, you know he'd circle all around
like he was on a search for somethin' down there on that ground.
I watched him for a minute, hanging silent in the sky,
but soon the silence was broken by the echo of his cry.
As he screamed his disapproval of the place i chose to rest,
then i spotted the remainder of what once had been a nest.
The nest was old and brittle- the aftermath of age.
And it lay beside a marker nearly covered by all the sage.
My youthful curiosity had grabbed me by the shirt,
I knew that I had work to do, but 5 minutes wouldn't hurt.
So i got down off the wagon, kicked the tumbleweeds away-
revealing an inscription on a stone of granite grey.
It read, 'Return to me in Springtime with love forever new,
and dance with me upon the wind the way the Eagles do.'
I stood there kind of puzzled, trying hard to figure out
just what these words engraved in stone were really all about.
So, when Rosie returned from visiting I told her what I'd seen,
and how when I got near the stone, that bird what start to scream.
With eyes reflecting memories through the traces of a tear,
she took me by the hand and said "there's something you oughta hear.
I'll share with you a secret that up till now's been known by only me and God above
of the Eagle and the Stone.
The caliche hills that weave their way through what once was boxed t-range
was once the home of eagles that nestled on the plains.
And the Indians had a legend, that they believe is true,
that for every man who lived out here, an eagle lived here too.
And if the eagles nested when a man would take a wife,
then the spirits of the lovers claimed the nesting ground for life.
And when their life was over
there spirit would ascend
and gather with the eagles
to dance upon the wind."
And that was how it happened, as if decreed by fate.
For the day i got myself a wife, the eagle took a mate.
And has he made for her a nest of willow branch and silt,
I was borne across the threshold of a ranchhouse not yet built.
And so we spent our wedding night beneath the prairie moon
in a Studebaker wagon in the early part of June.
And as she held me in her arms
and declared to me her love, she said
"if we should ever part, I swear by God above
that in springtime I will return to you
as when our love began
and with the eagles we will go
and dance upon the wind."

Moondog

2007-03-20T22:08:00.000-07:00

I never knew when
I never knew how
just when will i begin
to wise up and smile?
maybe never again
never ever again,
I'm just another guy
I'm just another friend.

But one day
I know
Woah-ooh Woah-ooh
Woah-ooh Woah-ooh.
I'm like a moondog
singing into the wind.

Who are all these people?
What are all their names?
Looking all so different.
Looking all the same.
Well here we are
doing what we do.
It's so sad,
so true.

But one day
I know
Woah-ooh Woah-ooh
Woah-ooh Woah-ooh.
I'm like a moondog
howling into the wind.

Mr. Chancellor

2007-03-20T22:05:00.000-07:00

Mr. Chancellor, I need a degree.
Mr. Chancellor, won't you set me free?
All this time and I've been hangin on.
Getting shit-kicked at the crack of dawn
by all the books, readers, and T.A.'s
This college life is getting harder every day
Midterm exams, penalties, and fines,
pompous looks while I'm standing in lines...

In Decision

2007-03-20T21:55:00.000-07:00

My thoughts ramble too much
but my body feels stuck,
I pour half-way up
into my half-empty cup.
Plenty of decisions
based on intuition,
lacking hegemony
over results i envision.
Indecision haunts me,
situations daunting.
If i deceive myself for
the facade will staunchly.
Had the chance and took it,
happy but don't look it,
emotions staying straight
but fate makes it crooked.
Booking down the freeway,
dancing round the leeway,
alternative instance,
think about the replay.
Vision of the future
hinging on my virtue,
love is feeling mutual,
not knowing if she heard you.
Said it and i felt it,
read it and i melted.
Never could i help it,
I wrote this with a felt tip.

Many a month has come and has gone
since i've been at home by your side.
And many a moon I've seen through the window
of the train I've been destined to ride.
So cry, cry, cry yourself dry.
You're standing out in the rain,
and my, my, the time passes by
I know that I'll see you again.

Jane

2007-03-20T21:44:00.000-07:00

Jane...

She used to wait tables
and laugh at pick-up lines.
Living in Seattle,
listening to Nevermind.
She worked 7 days a week,
never took a break.
Her name is Jane
and it's a shame,
I stood her up
cause I'm a flake.
The first time I met her,
she brought me a black coffee.
Had a black dress- oh, man.
She turned and told me she was naughty.

Jane, jane...

After that day I met her
working at the 'coffee bean',
I just tried to forget her
and told myself she was a dream.
But it was to no avail,
I had a preoccupied mind,
cause she was beautiful as hell
and i knew she was a gem to find.
So one friday i made my way back
to the 'coffee bean' to see Jane,
for the girl who wore all black,
and had a smile as clear as rain.

Jane, jane.

I finally asked her out that day
and Jane answered yes.
We decided to go see a play
and the play we saw was Macbeth.
So one date down and a little kiss,
everything going along.
Bought her some bling for her wrist
and even put her in this song.
But Jane is no longer,
another one out the door.
Cause I messed up and played her,
yup, Jane is no more.

Jane.

I stood her up, outside in the rain:
her pretty eyes' crying.
I left her all up in pain
and boy i ain't lying.
I'd said we'd move to Chicago
and share a small flat,
but commitments are hard yo,
I backed out of that.

Jane, Jane.
Goodbye Jane.

Last Swaller

2007-03-20T21:17:00.000-07:00

One-Hundred years from now
if the world's still in the game,
may the earth recall our footprints,
may the wind sing out our names.
There's a pocket full of memories,
looking back and facin' on.
But the ones that linger longest
are the ones from that hour before dawn.
When you're down to your last swaller,
cup hanging from your fingers,
sitting quiet without no light
and the smell of wood-smoke lingers.
The clink of spur and bit-chain,
your horses nicker driftin' light.
And the shuffle of the cavvy*
as it awaits the lasso's flight.
Those grunts and mumbled curses,
never loud & never clear:
they're a fore drawn signal
that dawn is almost here.

Dawn. Dawn, dawn, dawn.

Have you ever been out way yonder
and laid underneath the stars,
and gazed at them in wonder
as the twilight came in bars,
while a coyote sounds it's chorus
from atop some lonely hill,
as you snug up down your blankets
with your woman
to escape that morning chill,
till your hear that cook a-stirring
and before long comes a shout, he yells
"You fuckers come out and get it,
or I'm gonna throw it all out.
You get dressed in a hurry,
and you roll your bed up tight.
Drag it with you to the wagon
by the flickering fire-light.
There you snort into the wash-pan,
and it jars you wide awake,
cause there's ice around the edges
and it's shore is hard to take.
Then you fill you cup and plate up
underneath old Cookie's stare.
She's waiting for you to complain,
but you know
that you don't dare.

Dawn. Dawn, dawn dawn.

* a "cavvy" is a group of ranch horses.

Jumpsuit Jennifer

2007-03-20T21:10:00.000-07:00

Day, Day.

Wake up in the morning,
go to the park.
That's how my day starts.
Say hi to all the bums
and jumpsuit jennifer on her run.
Bounce my ball and let it fly,
hear that swish
and close my eyes.

Falling in love and falling out,
planning trips and ballin' out.
Hiking up climbs and timberlands,
singing old tunes with old friends.
Singing, 'These are the days,
I wanna can up and save,
preserve just like apricot jam.
Tip our straw hats to the man'.

Break our backs under the sun,
helping campaigns of progression.
Cast in our votes and then complain-
fools running fools and fooling games.
Singing, 'These are the days,
I wanna can up and save,
preserve just like strawberry jam.
Tip our straw hats to the woman'.

Wake up in the morning
and go to the park.
That's how my day starts.
Say Hi to all the bums
and jumpsuit jennifer on her run.
Bounce my ball and let it fly,
hear that swish
and close my eyes.

These are the days.

These are the days

I wanna can up and save.

These are the days.

Wrath of Llomas

2007-03-20T20:45:00.000-07:00

Birdland mindframe, feeling like it's circa 1962;
The way she moved through the room
whistling a gloomy tune:
The same repetition of that sad riff,
I approached half-passive
asked if,
"it was a blue-note classic?"
and she smiled, batted her lashes,
"close, but no, it's something i wrote,
called 'the wrath of Llomas'"
... a song for her pops she explained,
"he used to be a jazz saxophonist.
Coked and doped at the height of his solstice,
so much so you smell the stench of crack on his magnum opus."
Her fingertips slid over a bottle of corona,
and she sunk back in a sofa.

(refrain)

She said, "momma always knew
whenever the rent was due,
she would find him in his room
being in a tense mood,
leaning over a bent spoon
heaping with hell's sugar-
musical notes he wrote.
Scribbled on walls,
half-empty bottles of alcohol
in the hall.
She found over womens' #s, bras and droors."
(pause)
"...then came the summer of loss.
His pop's died and his brother too.
Llomas moved from tune to tune,
different spots, performing until
he met one the baddest drummers up north.
In a matter of weeks they formed a quintet"
she said with a slight pride,
her eyes wide as her smile.
"My father had a purpose now,
his vices were gone...
I can still hear the slices of life
in those very psalms... calm.
Just a man confessin' through the sax."

(refrain)

So i was talking to her for a while,
you know, in this place, the birdland place.
And she kept goin on about it,
it was sad man, it was really sad.
she said, "Just a man confessin' through the sax,
but then, then came the war-time draft, to me"
she said "that was the end of his jazz,
I'm talking about what he saw out there in Vietnam.
It left Llomas' heart weathered, worn, and torn.
He came home to lynchings on
mournful fields of corn.
I guess through me his passed was reborn,
he passed on.
And all I did was pawn his sax, his wax, and brass horn.
And it leaves me shaken and sad."
And then I shook her hand and said,
"I was glad to me you. I hope you have a good day."